


Beautiful Veins and Bloodshot Eyes

by Meatball42



Series: Rare Pairs [2]
Category: NCIS
Genre: F/M, Gen, M/M, Multi, Polyamory, Stress Relief, Team as Family, Threesome, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-03
Updated: 2012-09-03
Packaged: 2017-11-13 12:22:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/503502
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Meatball42/pseuds/Meatball42
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The unspoken rule is that you do what you have to for family. For Tim, his team is his family, and right now, one of them needs him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Beautiful Veins and Bloodshot Eyes

**Author's Note:**

  * For [layla_aaron](https://archiveofourown.org/users/layla_aaron/gifts).



> To my giftee: I'm sorry about all the ships, I don’t even know if you like Tony/Ziva or if this will ruin it for you, but the request was for an exploration of Ziva and McGee’s relationship, and this is certainly that. I hope you like it!
> 
> Oh, and the title's from a Foo Fighters song :D

He watches her watch the screen, her eyes intense and yet soft. Her mouth is soft, too, and it reminds him of Kate staring at Tony as he coughed up blood.

Tim frowns and shakes his head to get rid of the unwanted thought. He’s not superstitious, but his parents brought him to Church every Sunday and he still has an aversion to negative thoughts during their cases, particularly the dangerous ones.

This case in dangerous. Tony is undercover, the stakes are high and there’s a long way to fall if he screws it up. But he won’t, Tim insists, silently, to the darkness of the squad room. To the faraway lights shining across the river and the gray video of Tony’s hotel and the reflection of it in Ziva’s intense and yet soft eyes.

Tim worries about her. He’s worried about her since they got her back from Somalia, since she became the Probie, since she and Tony finally- finally- admitted how they felt about each other. He’s always worried about her, even back at the beginning when she was the razor-sharp assassin who could play mind games with Gibbs and wrap Tony around her finger and looked at him like she was weighing him with her gaze.

He never worried that she would get killed- the only person he thought was better able to protect themselves was Gibbs- but there was always something that told him her heart was so much more vulnerable than any part of her she let the world see.

He doesn’t think of her as a sister- he has Sarah, and this doesn’t feel at all the same- or as a lover- not counting the fantasies any guy would have working with her every day- but she’s his teammate, and she’s a part of his heart nonetheless.

And that part of his heart aches tonight. Watching her watch the big screen in the middle of the team’s area, standing still as a statue and her soft mouth just slightly open, like she’ll stand there until she knows Tony is safe.

Tim remembers going to pick up Kate from the hospital and seeing her asleep, curled up on the bed next to Tony’s, all loose dark hair and curled limbs and soft mouth, and he remembers kissing that mouth and grasping at those curled limbs and running his hand through that dark hair as Tony watched them, eyes dark in his too-pale face, from the bed where they eventually laid down and touched each other, all three of them. He remembers Tony complaining that they were torturing him when he couldn’t even get it up, and Kate teasing that maybe they could do it again when he was better- just maybe, with soft eyes and a smile promising nights that never happened.

Tim walks forward until the dim light from the screen washes over him and Ziva’s gaze slides to him, soft and intense and lost. He steps close to her in a way he never has before and says, “Come with me.”

They don’t talk as Tim drives them out of the Naval Yard. Ziva is still silent and unmoving, staring out the windows at the bright headlights and shadow landscape around them. She stirs fifteen minutes later, to look at Tim with an expression that he can only see for a moment before he has to look back on the road. He hates that look in her eyes, that vulnerable surprise, because he’s only even seen it when she’s been kicked while she’s down.

She doesn’t say anything until he pulls into the parking lot of Tony’s apartment building and parks in the space ‘Reserved for Apt. 206.’ “McGee, why are we here?”

He could say ‘I have a nosy, loud dog and your place is a half hour away,’ and it would be true. But the more honest answer is, “I think we’d both rather be here tonight.”

She gives him a long look- after all these years, it still feels like she’s weighing his soul in her hand when she does this- and nods.

He opens the door with his key- lock-picking was fun, but they’d learned that safety came before jokes- and stepped back to let her inside. She hangs up her coat and toes off her shoes instinctively and then stands in the middle of the dark living room like a ship left on the ocean when the wind dies.

He goes to stand next to her and looks over Tony’s apartment as their eyes adjust to the dim light of the moon coming through the windows. Tony has plush, stylish furnishings, a huge flat-screen and a rack of racks of DVDs, and pictures of his teammates on the walls. A picture of Tony and Abby, grinning like maniacs in her lab, catches his eye and he smiles.

“He’ll be fine,” Tim says aloud. He’s no more sure in this moment than he ever is, but sometimes hope and truth are the same thing.

“I know,” Ziva replies. Her body sways, like she wants to go somewhere, but she doesn’t move away.

“He’ll be fine even if you’re not watching over him all the time.” He looks at her, three inches shorter than he and ten times as deadly. She looks tired. He knows why. “You have to relax, Ziva.”

“He is in danger, McGee,” she says tightly.

“He can handle it.” He doesn’t want to argue about this. There isn’t a right answer, he knows it as well as she does. But what she’s doing is hurting her needlessly, and that’s not something he wants- or something Tony would want. “He doesn’t want you to burn yourself out worrying about him.”

“And you know this how?” she demands, suddenly sharp.

“Because he cares about you,” he answers, meeting her gaze calmly, “and so do I.”

She backs down, expression tired once again. “I know you do, McGee. Thank you.”

He says, “You’re welcome,” softly, and leans down to kiss her.

Part of him was expecting to be knocked to the ground, or at the very least pushed away, so he’s surprised when she kisses back, lightly. She touches his cheek and he steps back.

“You’re not going to kill me, right?” he asks, remembering for an instant the times when he did actually fear her, and how long it’s been since he ever considered her a threat.

“Not if you explain,” she says. A hint of a smile crosses her face for the first time in days. It takes away the shadows that have been gathering at the edges of her, and Tim would let her hit him or throw him to the ground if it would bring the life back into her eyes.

“My first month at NCIS,” he confesses, drawing the inky truths from the back of his mind where he’s hidden them away to rot, “I let a killer walk free.”

Ziva doesn’t scorn him; he didn’t expect her to. But her quiet acceptance is a balm for his soul. “I messed up the chain of evidence and his lawyers got him out on a technicality. Abby invited me to her house, and I didn’t know why, until Tony showed up.”

He pauses, remembering the shame of that night, when he’d hated himself for what he’d done and had shunned Abby’s attempts to cheer him up. The sadness in her eyes that he thought was disappointment, but was in reality pity and understanding. Tony’s appearance, which had sent him deeper into the web of guilt he’d built around himself, until both of them, together, had brought him back into the light.

“Tony told me Gibbs’ rule number nine.”

“Never date a coworker,” Ziva recites faithfully. They both smile.

“And then he told me about the unwritten rule: you do whatever it takes for family.”

“Did they help you catch the murderer?”

“Later, yeah,” he answers. Then he holds his breath. He’s not afraid she’ll hurt him, but he’s afraid of losing her regard. He’s afraid of ruining their friendship, her relationship with Tony, the things that make them a team. A family. “But that night, we slept together.”

She’s surprised, he can see that. She looks away, glancing at Tony’s pictures of the team all together, eyes flicking from one to the next like she’s seeing them anew. Tim wonders what she’s seeing in the images. He wonders what he wants her to see in them.

She’s looking at a picture of the three of them, Tim, Abby and Tony. Tim’s chubby in it; he can admit that now, three diets and two personal trainers later. Abby looks exactly the same, but Tony’s hairline hasn’t started receding yet. McGee is holding Abby around the waist and she’s flashing a peace sign that covers part of his face. Tony’s arm is around both of them; he’s giving the camera a thumbs-up. They all look so happy. So young.

“Did it help?” Her voice is very quiet. If the rest of the world wasn’t keeping a respectful distance, Tim would have missed it.

“Yeah,” he whispers. “It really did.”

“Then where is Abby?” Ziva asks. Her voice cracks through the air like a whip, cutting and fast as lighting, not unlike her eyes as she turns to look up at him again, suspicious and confused and fearful and tired.

Tim just wants her to look well again.

“They were trying to cheer me up. Show me they didn’t hate me for my mistake. You don’t need that.” He steps forward, takes her deadly, soft hands. “You just need to know you’re not alone.”

The suspicion is gone. The fear remains. Her eyes are wide and her voice trembles when she tells him, “I don’t want to be alone.”

He kisses her again, and this time, she does not make him stop.

 

…

It’s another week and a half before Tony’s case finishes. McGee stays over at Tony’s apartment with Ziva twice more, and one time when Abby joins them and they all sleep in Tony’s huge memory foam bed, talking late into the night, telling each other happy memories to keep the dark ones at bay.

When Tony gets back, Ziva’s the first one he goes to. They hug each other tightly while Tim waits beside them, waits for Gibbs to finish transferring the scene to the techs, waits for Ducky to finish loading the body, waits for his world to drag itself gracefully back into the light like a boat righting itself after capsizing.

Tony steps up to Tim. “Hey McSubtitute-Senior-Field-Agent,” he greets Tim with a grin, slapping him on the back and instigating a short, manly hug. “You take care of things while I was gone?”

Tim meets Ziva’s eyes. They are still dark and intense, as Ziva nearly always is, but they are no longer a stray tear from shattering. He nods wordlessly.

Tony looks between them. “I’m never going to get a threesome, am I?” he says ruefully.

“You never know, Tony,” Ziva says serenely, walking by them to meet Gibbs, all loose dark hair and soft eyes. “Maybe, if you’re good.”

She smiles and walks away, and the ghosts leave with her.


End file.
